


back from the halved heart

by blackkat



Series: useless porn scraps [38]
Category: Bleach, Naruto
Genre: Dimension Travel, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Outdoor Sex, PWP, Romance, sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 04:40:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20633222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: “If there's a dog collar in that bag, you can kiss your dick goodbye,” Obito says without looking up. “Literally.”





	back from the halved heart

“If there's a dog collar in that bag, you can kiss your dick goodbye,” Obito says without looking up. “Literally.”

Shunsui pauses at the edge of the deck, and out of the corner of his eye Obito can see his expression flicker. “Would I do that to my favorite lieutenant?” he asks with a chuckle, and drops the bag on the porch. He steps around Obito, and Obito waits for him to disappear into the house, to change out of his shihakusho and collapse with a book the way he usually does, but instead, strong hands close over his shoulders, tug him back as Shunsui drops to kneel behind him.

Just for a moment, Obito thinks about fighting. Considers shoving him away, getting angrier. But Shunsui’s stubble grazes his cheek, Shunsui’s cheek comes to rest against his temple, and those hands slide down to wrap loosely around Obito's stomach.

“You heard, I assume,” Shunsui says, but it’s not a question.

Obito laughs, because if he doesn’t he’s going to snarl. The fury is a heady thing, dangerous, hot like acid as it climbs his spine. “What?” he snaps. “Heard them call me your fucking _attack dog_? Heard them talk about you being the one holding my leash, how I'm _dangerous_ to you—”

Shunsui chuckles. “That part is true,” he points out, but when Obito growls at him, he just tightens his arms slightly. “Sadly, they were not actually referring to the danger you pose to my relaxation time. Misguided of them, but I corrected the misconception.”

“You know that’s not what they mean,” Obito says bitterly, but it’s a fading, tired sort of bitterness. With a faint sigh, he slumps back against Shunsui, turning his head to bury his face in soft hair. “You're an asshole,” he mutters. “It’s because you keep joking about getting me a collar.”

“Yare, yare, don’t be mean,” Shunsui protests, but Obito can feel the smile against his cheek, the liar. “It’s because they're in awe of my scary, competent lieutenants. The other captains are jealous that I have both you and Nanao, you know.”

Obito snorts, curling his fingers over Shunsui’s big hands and lacing their fingers together. “Give me to Byakuya for a week and we’ll see how jealous they are,” he says dryly.

There's a pause, careful, precise. Shunsui takes a breath, and this time when he shifts it’s to slip his hands inside Obito's yukata, ghosting a warm touch across scarred skin. “You’ll have to forgive me,” Shunsui says lightly, but there’s a thread of darkness beneath the easy tone that makes a shiver slide down Obito's spine. “But I’ll admit I’d rather drop Byakuya down a well than give you to him in any context.”

Obito's breath catches, and even now, after fifty years in this place, fifty years since Kamui dragged him right out of the Pure Lands and into the place, Shunsui’s care takes him by surprise. Shunsui’s _want_, too, more than anything, and he closes his eye, trying not to give anything away.

“Sit down,” he says roughly. “Back against something.

“Oh?” Shunsui says, all feigned surprise. “Right out in the open, Obito? How daring, how _scandalous_ for you to proposition me out here—”

Obito rolls his eye, then twists and shoves Shunsui back, toppling him over to smack right into the closest pillar. Shunsui yelps, hat going flying, and scrambles to get up, but before he can Obito leans in and drags the pink yukata from his shoulders, then divests him of his haori. That tone is teasing, means Shunsui doesn’t think Obito wants sex at all, but Obito has been sitting and stewing for _hours_ about the shit a couple of lower seats were saying about him, and he just _wants_. Wants the way Shunsui wants him, and wants that care more than anything.

“We’re alone out here,” he says, glancing up to hold Shunsui’s gaze. “No one’s going to come tonight.”

Shunsui laughs, and when Obito settles in his lap, his hands immediately find the hem of Obito's yukata, sliding it up. “I don’t know,” he says cheekily. “Saying _no one_ is going to come is awfully pessimistic of you, Obito. I usually have at least a few rounds in me.”

It’s so terrible that Obito can't help but laugh too, and he leans in to kiss Shunsui, draping his arms around his neck. Shunsui’s mouth tastes like sake and something sweet, a sure sign that he skipped out on the last hour of paperwork to laze around with Ukitake, but he puts more effort into kissing than he ever has into paperwork, and Obito sighs against his lips, sinking into the deep, intent kiss, the way Shunsui’s stubble makes his skin prickle. He tangles his hands in long hair, slides down until he’s sitting fully on Shunsui’s lap, knees against the wood of the deck, and the brush of cool air on his thighs as Shunsui bares them is almost indecent, something that should be forbidden but instead it’s _Obito's_.

“We’re alone,” he murmurs, breaking apart just enough to press a soft kiss to the slant of Shunsui’s jaw, “and all you can do is make bad jokes?”

Shunsui’s smile is a wicked thing, all innocence on the surface with a sly slant beneath, and he tugs Obito's obi loose, letting the cloth slither down and fall away. Deft hands brush the yukata from his shoulders, dropping to the ground, and with a slow, reverent breath, Shunsui smooths his hands down Obito's scarred sides, a hot, heavy slide that makes Obito's skin tingle.

Leaning in, Shunsui presses a kiss to the scar above Obito's heart, where Kakashi’s Chidori once destroyed it. Obito can hardly feel it through the thick scar tissue, but—

“If my jokes are bad, it’s because I'm too speechless to make good ones,” Shunsui says, smiling. “You naked on their lap would do the same to any man.”

“Your jokes are always bad,” Obito says, unimpressed. He parts Shunsui’s shihakusho, undoes the hakama, and gets a hand around Shunsui’s half-hard cock. Swallows the gasp it gets him with another kiss, smiling a little as Shunsui strains up into his touch, and then pulls back enough to murmur, “I want you.”

The hitch of Shunsui’s breath is gratifying, as is the rasp to his laugh. “I’m a lucky man,” he says, that same lazy admiration that first caught Obito so off guard. Fingers slide down Obito's spine, down between his legs, and he makes a low, startled sound. “You—”

Obito feels the flush climbing his cheeks, leans forward so he doesn’t have to see Shunsui’s face. “I was going out to get dinner from that place you like,” he says, muffled in the fall of Shunsui’s hair. “When I heard them.”

One long, callused finger slides into Obito, pushes all the way in to test how slick he still is. “Did I forget my birthday again?” Shunsui jokes, but the arm he wraps around Obito is careful, tight. He takes a breath against Obito's throat, strokes inside of him with long, slow motions that make Obito shiver and squirm. Another finger is hardly a stretch at all, and Obito shoves lightly at Shunsui’s shoulder.

“When I said I wanted you, that wasn’t hypothetical, asshole,” he says waspishly. “Come _on_.”

“Have mercy,” Shunsui laughs, but he slumps back against the post, looking up at Obito, and in the evening light his face is something beautiful, something warm. He looks at Obito in a way no one ever has before, and Obito would burn whole fucking worlds down for him.

“No mercy,” Obito says softly, and braces his forearms on Shunsui’s shoulders, leaning down to kiss him again. Again, again, again, because he can't stop himself and doesn’t care to try. “Not for you.”

Hands on his hips hitch him forward, and a hot shaft slides up his ass, making Shunsui hiss. “How ruthless,” he says, smiling, and Shunsui’s grip slides up, curls around his ribs. It feels grounding, steadying, and Obito leans into it, lets Shunsui support his weight as he guides Shunsui’s thick cock to his entrance and rocks back onto it.

The sound Shunsui makes is ragged, wrenched out of him. his head thumps back against the post, eyes fluttering closed, and Obito settles in his lap, fully impaled, and groans.

“Fuck,” he says, and braces himself on Shunsui’s shoulders for a moment, trying to catch his breath. The stretch isn't painful, but it’s almost too much, too intense. The feeling shivers up his spine, curls through his chest, and he has to breathe deeply to keep himself steady.

“Obito,” Shunsui says softly, and when Obito raises his head it’s to the sight of grey eyes, intent, just a little dazed as Shunsui watches him.

Unable to think of a single thing to say, Obito drops their foreheads together, closes his own eye. “Slow,” he manages, and Shunsui lets out a breath that’s almost a laugh. Rocks his hips up as Obito rocks back, and it’s slow, careful. Obito keeps the rhythm like that, enjoying the slow build of the heat, the fact that he can feel the pace of Shunsui’s heart against his skin, the way Shunsui looks at him, like he’s everything in the world.

Looks back, knowing the same, and doesn’t look away.


End file.
